Tabula Rasa
by Alliegirl
Summary: Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.-Memoirs of a Geisha
1. La Via Delorosa

A/N Hey, I just don't like the way the show is going. Dean is a bastard and Rory; well I have a few four and five letter words that could describe her. Anyway. Lindsay didn't deserve what happened, so I decided to write a story about her.

I haven't really seen a lot of episodes with her, so sorry if she's a little OOC. If she is just tell me and, I'll fix it. Oh, and this story starts a little after Rory leaves the wake to go see Dean.

What was it about men that cheated? Did they all think women were stupid? All they did was make excuses, and they always made the same ones. What? Was there a 'How To Excuse Your Cheating For Dummies' book she hadn't heard of? She didn't want excuses. She wanted him to be a man, a real man. She wanted him to admit he was wrong, he had hurt her, he deserved to be left, and he'd deserved to have her take him for all he was worth.

That had been her mother's answer. Take it all, including the shirt off his back, but that wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want his money, his car, and his house. Those things wouldn't change what happened, how she felt. She just wanted him to be honest, to tell her why, but he hadn't, all she'd gotten were excuses and desperate, empty apologies.

Flashback 

She was there to give him the paper that was supposed to be it. Just give him the papers and leave. She knocked on the door, palms sweating, knees weak, stomach in knots, and her heart pounding so hard she thought it would burst from her chest. She was feeling nervous, sad, angry, and betrayed, and then he opened the door.

Numb.

She was there, standing behind him, smiling. Or she had been until she'd seen who was at the door. Now she looked down, that same look on her face as the day they'd ran into each other, and their mothers started chewing each other out. Lindsay wanted to scream. Tell her to stop, just stop. She was playing innocent, looking ashamed and sorry, but she wasn't, she wouldn't be there if she was.

Lindsay didn't say anything. She just handed him the papers, watched his face change as he realized what they were. She was kind of glade she couldn't feel anything at the moment, because she was sure her heart was breaking into a million more pieces. She threw. . .**her **a final look. There was so much she wanted to say, do, but she couldn't her thoughts were coming so fast that she couldn't process anything. What had she ever done to her? Why was she doing this? She'd had her chance and gave it up.

Lindsay turned and jogged down the steps, she just wanted to go. Get as far away from them a possible. She'd barely made it to the sidewalk when she felt him grab her arm, gently, and turn her to face him. She didn't want to see him, talk to him, she didn't want to cry. . .except, she already was. He reached up and softly brushed her tears away. God she loved him, she felt herself weaken, wanting to lean into his touch, wanting to forgive and forget, and wanting him to hold her forever. She glanced over his shoulder. She was still there, watching, waiting. Lindsay pulled away, and just looked at him. Dean. Her Dean. Except he wasn't, he never really had been. She was the rebound girl he'd stupidly proposed to. She took a step back.

"Lindsay please," he begged. "We were just talking. It was a mistake."

_Yes, it was a mistake. The biggest. His biggest._

"It was an accident."

_No. He, she. . .they'd known exactly what they were doing._

Another step.

"It won't happen again."

_It shouldn't have happened the first time, but it did and would. . .again._

"I'm sorry."

_He should be._

Another step.

"I never meant to hurt you."

_But he had._

"Can't you forgive me?"

No. Could he? Would he? 

She turned away.

"Please don't walk away."

_He had, right into **Her** arms, . . .**Her **bed._

"I love you."

_No he didn't. You didn't do this to someone you love._

She started walking away.

"We're married."

_She didn't want to be married to him. It hurt to be married to him._

He started to follow her.

"We can fix this."

_She hadn't broken it._

"This can't be it."

Then how come it was? 

"Lindsay!" Dean gave one more desperate plea.

Lindsay stopped, and looked at him. Waiting.

"Please. I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I made a big mistake."

She closed her eyes, willing the tears back. He made a mistake. Was mistake a big enough word for what he'd done? She looked down at her ring. It used to be her source of pride. She was married. She was married to Dean. It was beautiful. She had loved showing it off. Now it mocked her. She had been wrong, so wrong.

"Lindsay," Dean said, drawing her gaze back to him. "I. . .I made a mistake."

She looked at him sadly, slowly sliding the ring from her finger, and laying it gently in his hand.

"So did I," she whispered, turning and walking away.

She'd made a mistake too, maybe a bigger mistake then he. She'd said yes.

A/N Okay R&R please


	2. Who am I?

A/N Copperboom Sorry about the name thing I haven't really watched the 4th season or this one. I fixed it now. Oh and this chapter is after she gives him the papers.

It was amazing how any great loss of something or someone important could throw your life into perspective; make you aware of all the shortcomings, and room for improvement in your life.

Lindsey hadn't gone home planning to make a big life changing decision, she'd already made one for the day and that had been confusing and painful enough. If anything she had planned to go home and have a good cry, but as she'd opened the front door she had once again been confronted with the destruction she'd caused while throwing Dean out. Suddenly she was tired. Tired of being sad, tired of being angry, tired of being scared, tired of their house, tired of the town, and tired of pretending she was okay.

She carefully made her way to the bathroom side stepping various objects that had fallen to the floor during her desperate plight to get Dean out of the house and away from her as soon as possible. Flicking on the lights she blinked at the brightness as she searched for a rag to was her tear stained face.

Nothing

Then she remembered she hadn't done the laundry. She had started it but had never finished.

Blue.

She'd been washing a blue load. Blue jeans. Dean's blue jeans. She'd been checking the pockets ever since she'd thrown in a pair of his pants, which had been holding his cell phone. She hadn't been snooping no matter what he said; she'd just wanted to avoid another water logged cell phone incident. There had been no cell phone, just a letter. She had set the letter aside, thinking nothing of it and continued loading the wash. Once she'd finished and started the load she had picked up the letter fully intending to put it on his nightstand and ask him to be more careful about things he left in his pockets, when she'd seen the name.

Rory.

Lindsey stood up, using her foot to shut the door to the cupboard she'd been searching. She gripped the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles turned white. She wasn't going to cry, not again, not for him. She brought her gaze up; looking at herself in the mirror, it reminded her of the times her mother had tried out some self-esteem exercises on her. It was really simple actually. Look in the mirror and name on thing you like about yourself. She had used to love doing it, not in a vain kind of way or anything, she wasn't one of those girls that stood in front of the mirror checking out every angle and blowing kisses to herself, she had just liked helping out her mom, but now no matter how hard she tried she couldn't come up with a single thing. The only thoughts that came to her mind were of things she didn't have. She didn't have chestnut hair, ice blue eyes, and freckles. She didn't like to read a lot, she didn't go to an Ivy League school, and she didn't listen to The Clash or XTC. She wasn't Rory.

Shaking of the sharp pain that shot through her she tried a different approach. Who was she? Her mother had always said it was good to know who you were because you couldn't have good relationships with other people if you didn't know who you were. When she'd been in high school her answer had been, Lindsey Lister, fiancée of Dean Forester, daughter of Theresa and Ben Lister, member of Drama club, French club, and Key club, good friend, and good student. After she had married Dean the answer had changed, then she was Lindsey Forester, wife of Dean Forester, daughter of Theresa and Ben Lister, good daughter, and good wife. Looking back on her answers now she wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. There hadn't been much of anything to her life. Sure she'd had her parents and Dean but they weren't who she was, neither were the clubs she'd joined, or the friends she'd had. It had taken a broken marriage to realize just how little she actually had, just how little she knew herself.

Who was Lindsey Lister? She didn't know, but one thing she did know is she wasn't going to find out the answer to that question while stuck in Stars Hollow. She needed to get away from Dean, Rory, her parents, and the town. She needed to stand on her own two feet for once, find out whom she was and what she could do with her life.

She needed to get the hell out of Stars Hollow.


	3. I think I can

A/N I don't know anything about Lindsay's parents so I made stuff up. Sorry if that bothers you.

_I think I can. I think I can. I think I can._

Lindsay repeated the mantra to herself every time she felt the small niggling of doubt popping up, which for her meant about every thirty seconds, but she was determined not to let it get the best of her. Gripping the steering wheel tightly she stared ahead visualizing her new life, her fresh start.

An hour and thirteen minutes ago she had left her parents house, climbed into her car and headed west. Her mother hadn't been happy about her decision. Theresa Lister was a strong woman, when she saw something she wanted she went after it, if something got in her way she faced it head on. That was probably why she hadn't understood Lindsay's need to leave. She'd accused her of running away, and demanded that she stay and fight, to which Lindsay had answered "For what?"

Unlike her mother her father had simply asked if she was sure, she'd said she was and that had been enough for him. Her father was usually an impulsive man, though he had settled down sense his marriage to her mother. Before meeting her mother her father had traveled from country to country, city to city, and job to job. He'd spent his entire life living out of a suitcase and loved every minute of it.

Though she knew her father loved them she strongly suspected he was living vicariously through her. Not that it mattered, she was happy to have his support no matter his reason. He'd helped her pack and load her car, given her a hug, his credit card, -for emergencies- and a note she wasn't to read until she "got where she was going." Knowing her father he most likely meant in life instead of her actual destination.

The only person who didn't know was Dean, but she figured he'd find out soon enough, most likely when it was his turn for the car. She smiled at the thought of the look he would most likely have on his face, and felt a wave of vindictive pleasure wash over her. The bastard had cheated on her he deserved to walk.

She hadn't initially decided to take the car. She'd wanted to make it on her own, without help –however indirect- from Dean, but it was the only car available besides her mom and dad's, and she hadn't wanted them to suffer for her poor choice in husband. Besides half of the car was hers, she'd just send him a check for his half once she got settled.

Glancing to her right Lindsay took notice of the sign informing her how many miles were left until she reached her destination. There were still quit a few left, though not as many as when she first set out. For a moment she let her thoughts linger on the fact that the closer she got to her destination the further she got from home.

_I think I can. I think I can. I think I can._


	4. If you'd like to make a call

A/N Hey, long time no write. I can't promise consistent updates because I've got a lot on my plate, but I'll try.

"If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and, try your call again."

Lindsay gripped the phone so hard her knuckles turned white. She didn't know how long she'd been standing there, and she'd lost count of the number of times the message had been played.

She wanted to call. She wanted to hear a familiar voice. She wanted to talk to someone who was glade to hear from her. She would give anything to have her mom –Always calm, cool, and confident. Always in control. - tell her what to do, to have her dad tell her he was there for her and he loved her, and had faith in her.

"If you'd like to make a call, please hang up, and try your call again."

Nineteen years of learning, of experience, of life hadn't prepared her for life in New York. She hadn't thought everything she'd heard about New York could be true, she'd thought they were just some of those clichés people said because they'd had a bad experience, but they weren't. Everything she'd herd was true. New York was always busy, the streets were crowded, and people were always too busy to help, and even if they did stop to grace you with a few moments of their time, they made damn sure you knew how pissed they were about it.

She'd been there two weeks, two tiring, frustrating, hopelessly long weeks. Who knew finding a job in New York could be such hard work? Dozens of applications, a few interviews and not a single nibble, she needed work and fast. Living in New York wasn't cheap and she was down to eighty bucks, which wouldn't get her far.

"If you'd like to make a call, please hang up, and try your call again."

Lindsay closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to stem the tears gathering behind her eyes. She couldn't call. If she did she'd give in to her mother demands that she return home, and her fathers soothing voice. She'd go back and let them handle everything and she'd be right back where she started from. . .Lindsay Lister daughter of Theresa and Ben Lister, high school graduate, former member of Stars Hollow High Drama Club, French Club and Key Club, Ex-Wife of Dean 'scum of the earth' Forester.

No, she couldn't go back. Not now. Not yet. She was better than that. She was better than Dean who hadn't been man enough to remain faithful to his wife, and damn it she was better than his precious Rory. She deserved more then pitying glances and half-assed apologies. No, she couldn't go back. Not yet.

"If you'd like to make a call, please hang up. . ."

Click.

A/N Please let me know what you think good or bad, just don't be too harsh I do bruise pretty easy.


End file.
